The Aftermath
by N i g h t W a v e
Summary: *Chapter 20 added* Ponyboy began to doubt if there is reason for his exsistance.
1. Chapter One

Steve  
"How can you be so stupid!?" I glanced at Soda, who visibly flinched. Darry was screaming at Pony bad. This is the first time Pony's messed up in a long, long time. Not since. . . it happened. Since the last rumble. And Darry was screaming at him. And Pony wasn't saying a word, he wasn't even trying to defend himself. He was starring at the ground, stark still.   
Soda and I were in the living room. We knew we'd better stay out of this. But it was killing Soda, not coming to Ponyboy's defense. They've always been close, but now they've been inseparable. Pony's stopped talking, and just started thinking way to much. Living in a joint like this, thinking like that can kill you. And it is killing Pony.  
"You'd think you would of learned, Ponyboy!" Darry continued. "You can get killed just like that! You gotta use you damned head!" We were sitting where we couldn't see them. And I was glad. "Is that what you want to do? Die!??" There still was no answer. "Answer me!" There still wasn't an answer.   
Soda suddenly stood up, walking into the kitchen. I followed him of course.   
"Knock it off Darry." He snapped.  
"Stay out of this, Soda." Darry said promptly. Gosh, Pony was awful pale. He glanced up momentarily.  
"Darry, he's just a kid still!" Soda said loudly. "Ever since it happened you act like he's become and instant adult! He's still just a kid!"  
"He's got to learn to use his head." Darry said back. "He's gonna get himself killed! He's my responsibility!"  
"He's got to learn! He's gonna make mistakes!" Soda shouted back. Pony walked over to the cupboard, sighing. Darry and Soda continued to fight. I half watched them, and half watched Pony.   
He opened the drawer, carefully taking something out and placing it to the counter. He closed the drawer again and I could see his arm was shaking. I was transfixed at his calm but shaky movements. He picked up the object, which I realized was a gun. He raised it to his head. His finger pressed on the trigger. . .  
"NO PONY!" I screamed. In what seemed to be slow motion Pony pulled the trigger, but before the bullet entered his skull Soda collided with him. Because of this, the bullet entered the left side of Pony's chest. They fell to the floor with a thud.  
"Pony! Pony. . .wake up." Soda immediately began whispering and pleading. "Pony." Darry was standing there, open mouthed, shocked. "Come on Pony! Damn it Ponyboy, wake up!" Crimson blood was soaking into Ponyboy's white t-shirt. He wasn't moving. . . he wasn't breathing. . .   
  
The hospital was cold and sterile. It was creepy. I haven't been in one for a long time, not since Two-Bit broke a few ribs. Soda was sitting beside me, his face blank. Every once in a while he'd rub at his eyes or slick back his hair. Darry was sitting, still and mute, on the other side of the waiting room.   
We were waiting word. He went into surgery a while ago. He woke up before he got to the emergency room. He was scared to death. And did not want to be alone. But we couldn't go into surgery with him. Soda was upset, I was upset, Darry was upset. Pony just didn't want to be alone. He asked us to stay with him, and we did till the anesthetic put him to sleep.  
"This can't be happening." He finally stated. "Ponyboy . . . he wouldn't try to commit suicide, would he?"  
"Apparently so." I said gently.   
"I knew he was getting stressed out. I knew he was having a hard time with school and getting back in the norm." He was rambling. I just listened. "I knew he was feeling right about things, but I didn't think he'd. . .he'd. I didn't think." He sniffled. I knew he wanted to cry. I rubbed his shoulders. He wrung his hands together, sniffling.   
Hours passed, and still we sat. Darry sat beside us after a while. The fight was totally forgotten. Please pull through Pony. Please. Around three in the morning, a man dressed in white came up to us. Darry stood up, then Soda and I.   
"You are the Curtis crew?" He asked.  
"Yes sir." Darry said, trying to stay calm. "How is he?"  
"He made it through surgery." We all sighed in relief. Early he had said it was unlikely. "He is critical condition. Tonight's outcome could determine if he'll survive or not." Soda inhaled, getting rigid. "He may wake up, and he may sleep through the night. He may sleep all week. He may never wake." He was being very blunt. Both Darry and Soda turned pale.   
"Can we see him?" Soda asked after a minute.   
"Yes, only close family, though." He said. "And after he wakes up, only brief periods. Don't let him talk or get excited." He looked at Darry. "You are his legal guardian?"   
"Yeah."  
"I would like to speak to you." He gave me and Soda Pony's room number. We watched them head toward the offices, then we started to the room. It was in the pediatrics wing, a sad reminder of Pony was still just a kid.   
I stopped at the door as Soda started in. He stopped and grabbed my shirt, dragging me in.  
"You're as much his family as me and Darry." He whispered. He then looked toward the bed.   
Gosh, Pony never looked so little. All these tubes and wires were hooked to his wrists and chest. A huge white bandage was covering his entire torso. He was covered to his waist by a green sheet. His eyes were closed and there was a beep from one of the many machines every time he in exhaled. His head was turned to it's side, half sunken into the pillow, his red hair soaked with sweat and slicked back from face. He looked about twelve.   
"Pony." Soda said, his voice quavering. We both walked up to the bed, looking at him. He was defenseless. He was so still. I thought me and Soda could take anything. Anything. But. . .I was having trouble taking this.   
Soda gently stroked his hair back, sighing. He pulled a chair from the wall and sat in it, looking at his brother. I squatted.   
"He's cold." Soda commented, pressing the back of his hand against Pony's face. He gently pulled the sheets up a little farther. Pony made a wheezing noise, fidgeting a little.   
I used to watch Pony and Soda sleeping if I got there too early on weekends. Soda would have his arm thrown around Ponyboy's neck and Ponyboy would be pressed tightly to his side. They'd sleep like that. They had gotten so used to each other they could sleep through each others tossing. I knew Ponyboy wasn't sleeping like that. He was sleeping in emptiness.   
"Do you think he'll make it?" I asked after a while.   
"I don't know. He's never gotten hurt so bad before." He answered, barely above a whisper. "He's gonna try. I know he doesn't wanna die. He's just scared."  
"So am I."  
"Me too."  
We fell silent, watching him breath slowly. After a while Darry walked in. He gulped, pulling up a chair on the other side of the bed. He was sweating a little. He gently stroked Pony's hair back 


	2. Chapter Two

Soda  
  
I sat there, watching my little brother's chest rise and slowly fall. He was so still, so small, so defenseless. I felt like he was a baby again, like he was the little ten year old that suddenly became Darry and I's responsibility when Mom and Dad died. He's been so much since then. . . we all have. Firstly, and the most devastating, was Mom and Dad's death. I mean, that's not something I'll ever get over. Nor will my brothers. Pony was so young. . . not that he isn't now. He was so scared. He clung to me like there was no tomorrow at the funeral. I think he was desperate to make me and Darry not go away, not go away like Mom and Dad did, but Darry was to tense to hang on to. I think I needed to hang onto something myself. . . it was like my heart was being ripped out. . . .  
Then there was the custody settlements. The government thought Darry, though a legal adult, was to young to take care of us. The fuzz came the night of Mom and Dad's funeral to talk to Darry. Fortunately, Pony was already asleep. He woulda panicked if he heard it. They practically said Darry wasn't old enough, mature enough, rich enough, or smart enough to take care of any human being. Then they said tomorrow we both would be taken to boys homes in the city. I was only thirteen at the time, and it scared me. I've never been away from home much before, or from Pony and Darry. . . or Mom and Dad. . .   
So Darry went to court. It was a long time. before things got back to normal. Of course Darry won custody, I never really doubted him because he seemed so sure. He was more concerned with Ponyboy's nightmares than the court. I now know he was just doing it to be brave for his brothers.   
It cost a lot of money at court. We couldn't afford the big house we were living in. So we moved to the bad side of town, in a small house with only two bedrooms and a small kitchen/living room/dining room combo. Pony had to go to a new school. . . I didn't bother to sign up again and started working at the DX, where I met my best buddy, Steve, and we became part of the Greasers. We became who we are today.   
I looked at Pony's pale skin and smoothed back hair and very light breathing. It wasn't who we are, I guess. That kid laying in a hospital bed was not just a Greaser. He was smart. He was young, and sensitive, and my little brother. And has been through too much pain and torture for his fourteen years.   
I stroked his hair back again. Poor Ponyboy. . . . 


	3. Chapter Three

Two-Bit  
  
By nine the next morning I was awake, and everyone else was asleep. I sat next to the bed, watching Pony. Golly, he looked little, both in size and age. I never really looked at him in that way. Ya know, he's always just been there, and always been okay. . . even with the rumble and Johnny and Dally, though he changed, in a big way, he was still Ponyboy.   
I noticed he was fidgeting a lot, tossing from one side of the bed to the other, as if he was dreaming. I remember the dreams Soda told me about, how he used to wake up screaming and stuff. I sure hope he doesn't do that. I'm not good a comforting no one, especially anyone panicky or scared. I could handle worried. . .   
I watched him like a hawk as his greenish eyes slowly opened. He blinked, his eyebrows dipping in as he searched the room with his eyes. Slowly he sat up. I grabbed his shoulders, keeping him down before he hurt himself.   
"Stay still, Pony." I whispered so I wouldn't wake the others.   
"Two-bit?" He asked, his voice squeaky.  
"Yeah." I nodded. "It's me." He looked around the room again, then back at me.  
"Where am I?" He asked, puzzled. I inhaled. He was waiting for an answer. "What happened? Everything's so. . . . . fuzzy." He yawned, resting his head back on the pillow.  
"Don't worry about it." I said. "Go back to sleep, buddy." I squeezed his shoulder. His eyebrows were still dipped in, confusion on his face.   
He curled up on his side, facing me. I couldn't tell if he was scared or anything, but he looked anxious. I comfortingly pulled the covers over his shoulders, patting his arm again. Slowly his eyes closed.  
I was relieved. He was going to make it. I was very confident now. I mean, he woke up, and was talking normal, and was a little confused but after that you know any kid would be. He was going to be okay.   
Wasn't he?  
He opened his eyes again, looking at me.   
"Two-bit?"  
"Yeah?" I said, sounding nonchalant.  
"Is Darry mad at me?"  
"No."  
"Is Soda?"  
"Definitely no."  
"Steve?"  
"Not that I know of."  
"You?"  
"Nopes."   
He paused, looking at the metal post of the bed.   
"Is social services gonna step in?"  
"Not that I know of." I actually knew they'd do something, most likely, but I didn't want to worry him.  
"Oh." He bit his lip, biting his finger nail. "I'm going back to sleep now." He looked at me. "I'm awful tired." I nodded, and watched as he fell back asleep. 


	4. Chapter Four

Darry  
  
Slowly my eyes opened. The sun was bright. I rubbed at my eyes, starting to roll to my side, then realizing I was not in my bed, in my bedroom, or in my house. I sat up, remembering what had happened. God, how had a fallen asleep?  
Soda was in the chair beside me, leaning on the bed, his head in his arms, still in a deep sleep. Steve was on the bench at the foot of the bed. Two-bit had pulled at chair up to the side of the bed, and was playing with a deck of cards.   
I looked at my wrist watch, and jumped at the time. It was nearly four in the afternoon.   
"Okay, I'm going to get it now." I heard Two-bit say softly. "What is a king of clubs?"  
"No."   
"Hearts?"  
"No."  
"Diamonds?"  
"No.   
"Was it a king at all?!"  
"No."  
"Um, a queen?"  
"Give up, Two-bit."  
I looked at the bed in disbelief. My little brother, my youngest brother, was laying on his back, looking at Two-bit, his hair still slicked back but his skin a more normal color. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes and whatnot. He kept closing his eyes as if he was going to fall asleep, then would open them again, looking at Two-bit like he was an idiot.   
I felt my stomach lurch. Was he going to forgive me? Did I drive him to do this? I could feel myself tense up.   
"Let's see, a queen of hearts?"  
"Two-bit." He groaned, moving onto his side, so he was facing me. He blinked, trying to sit up, but finding he didn't have the strength to. "Darry?"   
"Pony." I replied, getting up and walking over. To my surprise he reached over, grabbing my waist and squeezed me, hard. I stroked his head, baffled but relieved.   
"I'm sorry Darry." He said, muffled, his face pressed into my stomach. "I'm sorry."  
"You didn't do anything." I whispered, feeling like crying. He was struggling not too, his body shaking. "You didn't do anything, Ponyboy." It suddenly occurred to me fighting his sobs could hurt him more. "It's okay. If you wanna cry, go ahead and cry." I said quietly, sitting on the bed beside him. "I won't tell no one."  
"Darry. . . I shouldn't of done that." He said, still pressed to me. "I was just. . . mixed up . . . sick of fighting. . . I wanted to end the fighting, but I did it wrong. . . now we're even worse off and it's all my fault. . ."   
"Hey." I pulled him so I could look at him. "This is not your fault. I want you to relax, okay, lil' buddy?" I pushed his hair back, making him lay back down. "You gotta relax. Just concentrate on gettin' better." I'll do enough worrying for the both of us, I thought. He wasn't believing me and had this anxious look about him. Two-bit raised his eyebrows.   
"Huh?" Soda sat up, stretching. He looked at me, then at Pony. "Hey Ponyboy!" He said in honest surprise.   
"Hey Sodapop." He replied, tiredly, wiping at his tears.   
"Golly, you had me scared." Soda said, stroking back his hair. "You feelin' better?" He nodded a little. "When did you wake up?"  
"I don't know. . ." He said quietly.   
"Around nine." Two-bit supplied. "Doctor came in around noon and took him off the heart monitor." That's right, that beeping was gone. He still had the IV, though.  
"When can I go home?" Pony suddenly asked, looking at me and Soda.   
"I'm not sure," Soda started.   
"Not for a while, Pony." I sighed. Suddenly a man walked in, dressed in a suit and tied.   
"Daryl Curtis?" He asked, looking at Soda, who pointed to me. The man held out his hand, and I shook it, confused.   
"Would you mind stepping out, so we can talk. . ." He glanced around the room. "In private?"  
"Alright." I glanced at Soda, who was stroking Pony's hair, starring at me. "Don't get rough." Soda does with Pony at times with out realizing it.   
"No, I'm going to challenge him to a marathon, and then we're going sky diving." He said irritably. I laughed. He got his sense of humor back. I followed the guy into the hall. . . 


	5. Chapter Five

Ponyboy  
  
I watched Darry walked out of the room. Gosh, my head was pounding. Soda turned back to me, pushing my hair back while looking me in the eyes, as if to see what I was thinking.   
"You sure you okay?" He asked. "Thirsty? Hungry?"  
"I'm okay Soda." I told him, resting my head on the pillow. "Just tired." And scared. I had done something really dumb. Really, really, really dumb. I couldn't remember what yet. I wanted a cigarette, bad, and I hadn't smoked in close to a month. I closed my eyes, sighing Now we're in worse trouble then before. I felt tears prick up at my eyes, and I wiped them away quickly.   
"Who's up for poker?" Two-bit asked, shuffling the deck. Steve sat up from his seat at the end of the bed, rubbing his eyes. "'Bout time you got up."  
He mumbled, cursing under his breath, then got up, walking over. He looked tired, bags under his eyes, his hair a mess.   
"Hey Pony." He mumbled.   
"Hey." I replied. I tried to sit up. A sharp pain raced through my rib-cage, and I quicky grabbed my side.   
"Pony." Soda stood up, making me lay down. "Stay down before you hurt yourself some more." He sounded scared. I hated making him scared. I felt myself start to shake. Glory, why can't I think before acting?   
"Whatsa matter?" Two-bit asked quickly.   
"Nothing." I said, looking away, forcing my body to be still. Soda was still starring at me in worry. "Juss hurt." I said, lying.   
"Sure?" Soda asked, calking an eyebrow at me. I nodded.   
"I'm gonna get some coffee." Steve said, yawning. "Anyone want some?"  
"Get Darry a cup." Soda said, leaning on the bed. "If they have any get me n' Pony some-"  
"Chocolate milk, I know." Steve finished. "Two-bit?"  
"I'm fine." He said, splitting the deck. "Aces are low."  
"I'll watch." I said, curling up my legs so they had a place to play. Soda gave me a look, but soon they were playing and laughing as Soda tried to cheat, he was horrible at it, and Two-bit spatting comments. Every once and a while Soda would rub my head or pull on my foot or something of that sort.   
I was scared. I was pretty sure Darry's mad at me. . . . I couldn't blame him. I know I scared him bad. This was going to cost a lot of money. . . we're not rich or anything. . . and from what Darry said I wasn't going to be able to go home for at least a week. I paused.  
"Soda?"   
"Yea?" He said, concentrating on the game for the most part.  
"Who was that guy Darry went to talk to ?" He looked at me.   
"I'm not sure. . ." He told me. He started to say something, then decided against it. "Don't worry about it, Ponyboy. Let us handle it."   
I felt like crying. It was my fault and nobody would tell me anything.   
I started to think about what happened, and came up blank. I remember fighting with Darry because I got in trouble in school. And I remember Soda coming in and yelling at him. And I remember sweating. I remember screaming. . . and quarreling, a lot of it. And then I remember Soda crying. . . . but that was it, till today.  
Steve came back in a few minutes. There wasn't any chocolate milk but he got me and Soda Pepsi's. He was in a better mood. He said he called him Dad and he was pitching a fit. I don't know why that is a good thing. . . .   
They went back to their poker game, expanding it so Steve could play. I sat there, thinking, off in a world of my own, slowly thinking my way to sleep. . . . 


	6. Chapter Six

Daryl  
  
"What?!" I demanded.  
"I'm Mr. Dirk, you're appointed lawyer." The man said calmly, as if he was just there to sell some stupid product. "I've come to forewarn you that when you brother become well enough to leave the hospital they will be sent to a home until a trial come to deal with this shooting. It is for the well-being of the children."  
"It is not for the well-being of my brothers." I snapped. "It'll just scare the crap out of them."   
"It will only be until the trial, maybe a week or two." Mr. Dirk continued, as if I hadn't said anything. "It is because there was another situation with your youngest brother. . ." He looked at the packet he had taken from his briefcase. "There seems to be a typo here. . . ." He shook his head. " Patrick maybe? Anyway, in the end of last year."  
"His name is Ponyboy and that was cleared from his files." I said, confused. "The judge cleared him."  
"It was still noted in his family records." Mr. Dirk said with a shrug. "It concerns the state."  
"You can't take my brothers from me." I said, desperately. "They're all I got."  
"It would be only a week or two, until the trial tells what will happen permanently."  
"A week or two is a long time." I said, stubborn. I was scared. This was one thing the three of us were afraid of completely: losing each other. Pony would never get well if he wasn't at home. And Soda'd be so scared, and if they were placed in separate homes . . . who knows what would happen.  
"I know, this is not an easy thing." He said. God, he was just like a soc. I hated him. "I have another appointment." He handed me a card. "We'll do lunch tomorrow." With that he was gone. I stood there, baffled.  
I sighed. What was I going to do? I stuffed the card in my pocket and decided to get back to the room, and not mention this thing. I'll put if off as long as possible. If they knew it was coming it'd be worse.  
The hopspital was full. Full. I mean it. There was even beds in the hall. I saw several people with singed clothes. There must have been a fire. I kept thinking about what Pony looked like when I saw him after he was away that week. God, he looked so sick and like he's been playin' in an ash pile. I thought we were going to loose him then. Both me and Soda. But this is even worse: I could loose both of them.   
I brushed aside those thoughts, returning to the room. It was as if we were at home. Steve, Two-bit, and Soda were content with a poker game, laughing, playing, shoving. I was glad the nurses let Pony had as many visitors as he wanted. He's gotten so sick lately that he knows all their names.   
My youngest brother was curled up, asleep, the arm with the IV hanging out of the bed, his fingers tips getting red from the blood rushing downward. I walked over, stroking his hair gently, folding his arm onto the mattress. He wheezed, tucking it in under his chest, which he was laying on. Soda looked at me.   
"What was that about?" He asked innocently, shoving Steve as he attempted to get an ace from the deck.   
"Nothing." I said, sitting down on the bench next to Steve. "Deal me in." 


	7. Chapter Seven

OS: I'm in the musical South Pacific and this week is show week, and Thursday is opening night! I most like won't have time to write for the rest of this week. I love all the great reviews. Does anyone have any idead or plot plans they'd like to suggest?  
~Sky Tales  
PS. I'm so pathetic. I can figure out how to review other people's stories. Someone wanna tell me how? E-mail me at star_light149@hotmail.com  
  
Steve  
  
"Okay Pony." The doctor said calmly. "I'm going to feel your rib cage and you tell me when it hurts." Pony, who was sitting up in bed, nodded. We all were standing back, leaning on the wall.   
The doctor carefully starting pressing his side, starting above his pant line and working up. Pony, who's back was facing us, was fun until he got half way up, where he jolted, stifling a noise. The doctor nodded, marking something down on his clipboard. He the started taking off the bandage, slowly, stopping when he must of been able to see the wound.   
"Has it been bothering you?" The doctor asked, walking to a cabinet and taking out a blue plastic case, and then walking back over and setting it on the bed beside him.  
"Not really." Pony answered. "I can hardly feel it half the time." The doctor took a cotton ball and some clear liquid out of the container, then pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.   
"I'm going to have to clean it." The doctor said calmly. "It's going to hurt." Pony's copper colored head nodded. Soda fidgeted. The doc dipped the cotton ball in the liquid, then pressed it to the kid. He stiffened, and goose-flesh went up his back. The man set the cotton ball on the county. I could see it was rust colored.   
"I think you're going to have to started staying still." The doctor said. "Every time you move you're making the stitches tear your skin." He frowned. "I think you may need to stay another few days. It looks infected." Pony nodded solemnly. Daarry stood up. The doctor smiled at him. "I think he's going to be fine. He's just a typical fourteen year old who can't keep still. At the latest he should be able to go home by Saturday, but even then he must be still."  
They talked a few more minutes, as the doctor rewrapped Ponyboy and made him lay back down, and then he left. Darry sighed, sitting down on a chair beside the bed.   
"I gotta tell you two somethin'." He said, looking from Pony to Soda. Soda quickly walked over, pulling himself onto the bed next to Ponyboy, who eyes' widened.   
"What's a matter?" Soda asked. Two-Bit and I started to inch out of the room, but Darry signaled us to stay.   
"You know that man that came the day Ponyboy woke up?" He asked. They both nodded. "He was from the state."  
"What?" Pony asked, sitting up.   
"You mean he didn't have an IQ?" Two-bit asked, trying to lighten then mood.   
"What'd he want?" Soda asked, tensely.   
"I. . ." Darry sighed again. "Well, since we all were in trouble a few times in the last year, Family Court wants to put you two in a foster home until we go to court." A stricken silence came over them. My heart jumped. They can't just tear apart a family like that, can they? "They said It'd be maybe a week. . . . ."  
"They can't do that." Soda said, his voice cracking. "They can't!"  
"This is my fault, isn't it?" Pony asked, getting as pale a sheet. "I didn't mean-"  
"This isn't your fault." Soda said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, wiping vainly at the tears that were trying to make their way to his eyes. "Not your fault. Got it?" Pony pulled his legs up, hugging them and burying his head in his arms. and his body shook momentarily.   
"It's not your fault Ponyboy." Darry said, sternly. "This is the stupid people at the stated." He rubbed his brother shoulder. "It's only going to be for a week, alright? And. . . and I'm trying to get it so you go to someone you knows. ."   
"A week's an awful long time." Soda said, cupping his head in his hands. "How can they do this?" Pony sat back up, sighing, looking like he might cry.   
I looked at Two-bit, who looked shocked, and miserable.   
"What if the court goes wrong?" Soda said, leaning back. They both were trying to keep together, to not cry, to keep calm. Fidgeting. They weren't very good at it.   
"I'm not going to let them take the two of you away from me." Darry said calmly. I could tell he had already did his panicking and initial fear. That's why he was so tense that day. "It'll be a week at the most."  
"That's what Mom and Dad said." Pony said, his voice breaking, and he sobbed. Darry looked scared and quickly hugged him, and Soda looked startled, then quickly started talking to Ponyboy in a low, soothing voice. I could see why. They never talk about their parents. Too many memories, Soda said.   
The Curtis's sat there, trying to comfort the youngest and keep him from doing something we'll all regret. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Soda  
  
"Just a week." Heard my brother murmur to himself from beside me in the backseat. We were in the backseat of a blue van with two suitcases and a knapsack of Pony's school books. This is it, I thought. We were really going to leave Darry. The night air was damp, and what was left of the sunset was a blue-glow near the bottom of the buildings.  
When we left the hospital I nearly cried. Steve had his pissed off look about him, and Two-bit was as miserable as we were. I looked at Ponyboy. He was beyond misery. He was worried and stiff and confused and scared and . . . .   
"Ponyboy?" I asked. He quickly looked at me.   
"Yea, Soda?" He replied. I reached over, rubbing his head.   
"It's gonna be alright, Pony. It's going to be alright." He seemed puzzled a minute, then a shy smile crossed his face. That was the first time he smiled since this happened. I felt myself smiled too.   
This wasn't the end of the worlds, I thought with confidence. Darry's right. He wouldn't give us up for the world!  
"I hope so." He said.   
"I know so."   
  
We drove for a long time. Pony was still glum, but I forced myself to remain cheerful as much as I could.   
The man driving was bald. He was from the state, too. He was whistling to himself, tapping the steering wheel. He was weird.  
We were going to a foster home, on a farm-claim, all the way in Windrixville. We didn't have fond memories of Windrixville, and Pony knew it all to well. The closer we got to the place the more he fidgetted. He got out a book and started to read, but kept crossing and uncrossing his legs, then kicking his feet out.   
"Willya sit still already?" I asked, nudging him. He bit his lip, nodding.   
We pulled up in front of a white house with black trim, and a swing-set out in the yard.   
"This is it, kids." The man called. "Let's go meet 'em." I grabbed the knapsack and suit cases before Pony could think too. He wasn't supposed to lift anything heavier then a text-book, though he did his best to ignore those orders. He gave me a dirty look, and I grinned in response.  
It was a cold night, windy too. I wished I had my coat out, my mind thought absently. I was hungry too. Pony and I stopped at the bottom step as the man knocked. The yard was huge. A dog was sitting in a pen a few yards away, wagging it's tail happily. Toys, like pre-school stuff, was in a stack beside the door, and three regular bikes. Something smelled good inside.   
"Hello?" A woman, pudgy, tall, with long black hair down to her rear, answered the door. Glasses sat at the end of her nose, and a large text was in her hand. Pony and I looked at one another. What had we gotten into?  
"Mrs. Lya?" The man asked. "Hi, I'm from the state. This is Soda and Ponyboy Curtis." He waved an arm at us. Pony fidgeted. His name never goes with people very easy. But the woman nodded, waving us in.   
The house wasn't spotless inside, but clean in a casual way. A lot cleaner than the last time I was at our house. It'd be different when we get home, though, cause Darry cleans when he's worried. I gulped, thinking of my big brother. I looked around. A TV was on in another room, I could hear people talking and laughing. A little girl and boy, one maybe two, the other three or four, was on the floor near the table, playing with blocks.   
"Have a seat." The woman said, waving us. I sat down the bags cautiously, then pushed Pony over toward the table, where we sat next to each other. The man sat across from us, and Mrs. Laya at one of the ends. "Which one of you is Ponyboy, and which one is Soda?"  
"I'm Soda." I said. "This is Pony." Pony looked from me to her. She smiled, and then turned to the man.  
"This is temporary, I believe." He said. "Till a trial, and then what happens happens." He pulled out a paper from his brief case. "The younger one," He pointed to Pony. "Has some medications and skin treatments to deal with, and the older," He pointed to me. "Doesn't go to school. He works at a . . . gas station?" He raised his eyebrows at me. I nodded.   
"That's okay." The woman nodded. "That's all workable." She got up. "Mr. Harpens, would you like some coffee while I fix these two some dinner? They look famished." I looked at Pony, who looked at me. She could almost read minds, I thought. I gulped. Sorta like what Mom used to do.   
"No thank you." The man said. "I'll just leave the paper-work here?" He left a folder on the table, and soon was out the door.   
"How old are you two?" The woman asked, heating up a frying pan.  
"I'm seventeen." I said. "Pony's almost fifteen." Almost my foot, actually, but I knew Pony'd like it.   
"What grade are you in, Ponyboy?"  
"Eleventh." He said, softer then usual.   
"Hmm." She smiled. "You're a smart one, huh? Skipped a grade or two?" He nodded. She soon set two plates in front of us, mashed potatoes and chicken. She then set two glasses of chocolate milk down. Okay, that was too weird. Our favorite foods in one meal? Coincidence? Didn't think so.  
We ate in silence, and then she lead us upstairs to the bedrooms, saying we looked exhausted. The room she told was partly ours was dark blue, with three bunk-beds in it. The beds were made, and a desk was right next to it. I set the bag of Pony's school junk under the bed, and then our suitcases. I didn't want to get into anything.   
"Did you take your pills?" I asked Pony. I pulled off my shirt and kicked off my shoes and socks and sat on the bottom bunks. I stuffed my clothes in under the mattress. I couldn't just throw them like I did at home. I turned to him.   
He hadn't been listening. He was looking out the window at the stars, kicking of f his sneakers without lifting his eyes from outside. Golly, he looked so lonesome. His hair was a mess, and he just looked lost. As he inched off his sweatshirt the white of the bandage made him looks so thin.  
"Pony." I said, a little louder. He turned quick.   
"Yeah?"   
" Did ya take your pills?" He nodded, then climbed into the top bunk, staying in his socks and jeans. I stood on the bottom bunk, watching him. He lay down, and I pulled the blue quilt over his shoulders. He blinked at me.   
"Do you think Darry's worried?" He asked.   
"You joking?" I asked, resting my folded arms on his chest and stomach. "'Course he is. You know him." He sighed.   
"I don't mean to be so much trouble, ya know?" He said, squeaking. "It. . .it just happens." I smiled, and carefully stroked back his hair.   
"Don't worry, Ponyboy." I said, quietly. Though he was talking clearly, just looking at him I could tell he was nearly asleep. "Got it, bub?"  
"Hmm. . ." He rolled onto his stomach, facing the window. I smiled, and gently stroked his hair back a final time before crawling into bed. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Two-bit  
I don't think it's ever been this quiet in the Curtis's house. I'm sitting on the couch, playing solitaire, listening to Darry wash the dishes for the millionth time that afternoon. There has been no fighting, no shoving, no loud radio, no TV, and no pencil sketching. I didn't like the quiet. I was half wanting to go home, but I didn't want to leave Darry alone. Steve was at his house for some family gathering that he didn't want to go to.  
Darry slowly came out of the kitchen, flicking off the light. He collapsed on the couch next to me, then got up again, realizing he was sitting on a pile of clothes. He picked them up, sat back down, and started to slowly folding. By the looks of them, size and dirtiness, they were Pony's. Not a speck on 'em.  
"He never puts his laundry away." Darry murmured.  
"I don't think he knows how." I replied. He sighed again. "Awe, c'mon Darry, you know them. They're tough." He looked even more miserable.   
"Pony's not tough." He said.   
"Well, Soda is, and you know Soda isn't going to leave his brother for nothing." I sighed. "You look like shit. That ain't helpin' them, ya know, making them worry about you worrying." He sighed.   
"I can't help it." He replied, stubbornly. "You would worry if you had two kids depending on you." He said, shooting me a look. I probably would, I thought. I didn't know what to say. He sigh. So did I.   
For once in my life I was speechless. 


	10. Chapter Ten

Ponyboy  
  
I found myself panting, sweat covering me, and Soda holding me tight.   
"Shh. . . shh." He was saying.  
"What's happening?" I said, struggling to calm my beating heart. He clamped his hand over my mouth, looking around.  
"Shh. There's two other kids in here, and we'll have some question to answer if they wake up." He said, gently. "You just had a nightmare." I slowly let my gaze lift from him to around the room. Somehow I was on the bottom bunk, and Soda was kneeling on the floor. I shuddered. It was cold. "Calm down Pony. I'm here." He said, hugging me tight again. I let myself breath again, deep as I could. I heard someone out in the hall. Gosh, had I been screaming? I asked Soda.   
He nodded solemnly, grabbing a tissue from a box on the desk, wiping my face. I felt my own tears. I had been crying.   
"Oh glory, I totally fell apart, huh?" I whispered. He ignored me, just looked at me, carefully pushing my hair from my face and pressing the ball of his palm on my forehead. He sighed, pushing me so I was laying down.   
"Go to sleep, Pony." He said quickly. I started to protest. He clamped his hand back over my mouth and pulled the quilts up so they replaced his hand. "Now." He stroked my hair back, then looked out the window, sitting on the floor beside the bed.   
"So-" I started.  
"Sleep." He said, this time stern.   
  
"Ponyboy?" A voice asked. I opened my eyes, feeling the weight of Soda's hand on my stomach, and sun light was all over the room. "Ponyboy?" I turned to the voice. It was the woman. I sat up quickly, surprising Soda, who's head was laying on my shoulder without me realizing. I nearly fell on top of him. She smiled. "Sorry to startle you. You need to get ready for school."  
"Oh. . ." I said, looking at the wall clock and meekly climbing to my feet. Soda yawned, getting up with me.   
"Well, get dressed and come down and eat breakfast, and you'll meet the other kids, okay?" She looked at my brother. "You can go back to sleep if you'd like."   
She left, closing the door.   
I sat down on the floor, pulling out my suitcase, straining myself to lift it onto the mattress. The two weeks in the hospital knocked all the strength outta me. Soda did the same, quickly dressing, still half asleep. I dressed, dressing in jeans, a pair of Soda's hand-me-downs that was still a little too long for me, and a sweatshirt, I think it was originally Darry's. I started looking for my comb. I didn't pack anything, I haven't even been home in ages. I yearned for my own bed and my own ceiling, and my own brother.  
"Glory." Soda took a look at me. "You've lost a lotta weight, bud."  
"I know." I said. None of my clothes fit me right. "D'ya got a comb?"  
"Here." He tossed me one, pulling on his socks. He was still looking at me funny. "You feelin' okay, Ponyboy?"  
"Yea." I said. "Just a little spooked. . . ya know. . . new place." He nodded, smiling slightly. "When do we get to talk to Darry?" He frowned.   
"I'll call him when you get home from school. I don't want to when you're not here. Darry's gonna wanna talk to you." He frowned. "Let's go." He pushed me toward the door.   
We went downstairs, silently walking into the kitchen. There was four of five kids at the table, and a man and the woman. The two of us kinda froze at the bottom of the stairs, unsure of what to do next. There was three girls, on Soda's age, one seven or eight, another two-ish. There was two boys, one twelve-ish, the other four-ish. They stared at us.   
The woman noticed us. She smiled warmly, waving us over to the table. We sat side by side on the bench, and the woman sat plates in front of us. Eggs and Ham. I wasn't hungry, I realized. I was nauseous.   
"Boys', this is Clarrissa," The older girl. "Madeline," The next oldest girl, " and Sally." The baby, "Clark," The younger boy, "and Thomas." The twelve-ish boy. "Kids, this is Soda and Ponyboy Curtis." The girls started giggling, and the older boy just stared. Our names are always conversation starters.   
"Ponyboy?" Clarrissa asked. "That's weird." I felt my ears flush. She was pretty, with long blond hair and blue eyes. Soda scowled, silently. "No offense or anything."  
"Clarrissa, Pony's going to be in you're grade. Maybe you'll have some classes together." Mrs. Lya said, trying to get conversation going.   
"You're in eleventh grade?" She asked. I nodded. "You look too young."  
"I skipped some grades." I said, still keeping my head low.  
"How old are you?" She asked, I felt a foot nudge me. I looked up. She was looking me in the eyes.   
"Um. . . fifteen."  
"Fourteen." Soda murmured under his breath. She laughed.   
"Is you're real name Ponyboy?" Madeline demanded.   
"Madeline!" The woman scolded.  
"Yea." I nodded. It turned to an awkward quiet. . . 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Steve  
I pulled into what I believed to be 178 Heail Lane of Windrixville. It was far out of the way, but Soda insisted he work, but the Curtis's only had one car. He was struggling to maintain his perky attitude. It wasn't working.   
It was a large white farmhouse. A lot of little kids junk was in the yard, and a German Shepard was in a pen on the other side of the drive. I sat in the truck for a few minutes, drumming my fingers on the dashboard. It was nearly seven-o-clock, so I was a little early. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking a long drag.   
The door opened, and Pony and a cute girl with long blond hair walked out the door. She was in a jumper and a white sweater, something no girl I knew would wear. Soda was in jeans and the leather jacket with the burnt back Dally gave him long ago. She was talking a mile a minute, then stopped when she saw me. Pony started walking over, and she immediately followed. I rolled down my window.  
"Hey Steve." Pony said. I messed his hair. We both knew we weren't going to really talk about it. That we were going to pretend everything was fine and dandy. Because otherwise things would go bad.   
"Hey kid." He looked tired, I noted. "How's doing?"  
"Hmm." Was his reply. I gave him a sideways look. "Want me to go get Soda?"  
"Naw, he'll eventually realize I'm here." I shrugged. He felt into his pocket, then went to get into his bag. I tossed him the rest of my pack of cigarettes. He looked at me curiously. "I know you too well." That got something some what like a grin out of him, which I recipricated.  
"Who's your friend?" The girl asked, skeptically eyeing me.  
"Oh, um, Steve, this is Clarrisa. Clarrisa, Steve." He introduced. The door opened again. Soda jumped out, and a woman stood on the porch, watching us as if it were a movie. He walked over. "She lives here."  
"Hi." She said, shyly, but still skeptical.  
"Hey Steve." Soda said. He then took the pack from Ponyboy and gave it back to me. "I said no smoking." He said to the smaller Curtis. Boy, if he was protective of Ponyboy before, he's a tyrant to him now. As Pony get's older, they look more and more alike, I noticed. especially the way he rolled his eyes just then.  
"It was worth a try." Pony said dismally.   
"Ponyboy, we've gotta get to school." Clarrissa said to Pony, who swallowed hard.  
"Okay." Pony said, quietly. "Seeya Soda, Steve." He and Soda stared at each other for a moment, then he and the girl walked away, toward the bus stop. We both watched, then Soda climbed into the truck beside me.  
"I hate when he looks at me like that." He said ruefully. "He seems so defenseless. It's like I'm abandoning him." He rested his chin on his closed hands.  
I pulled out of the driveway and started back to the city.   
"What's it like?" I asked.  
"It's weird." Was his hesitant response. "There a lot of kids, and I don't have to do anything, like housework. And we can't smoke." He sighed. "They have a washing machine. I mean, I"m used to washing my clothes with handsoap in the sink. And I'm sleeping below Ponyboy, not beside him, and there's no noise or fights or nothin'." He sighed. "I hate this. I hate this."  
"No one likes it, that's for sure." I told him in a voice that resembled a school councelor. Ech. "We'll make it through this. Calm down." He sighed, straightening his DX shirt. He took a cigarette from the pack, and lit up. He only smokes when he's real nervous.   
"Right. We'll be okay." He said, sighing.   
He was silent the rest of the ride. I hated the state. Blasted state. Damned state. Soda was supposed to be the happy one. He wasn't supposed to be miserable. That's my job. Two miserable people are no fun at all.   
I sighed. This was going to be a long day. 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Darry  
  
I set the mound of dirty laundry on the bathroom counter beside the sink, filling it with cold water. I then began to scrub them with a bar of orange soap. I didn't have to work till eleven on Monday mornings. It was only seven-thirty.  
Grass stains. Soda's jeans are always covered in grass stains and oil. The most difficult junk to get out of denim. And Pony always had things in his pockets, and holes in his knees. He needed new ones anyway. All the ones he had hung off him.   
I bit my lip. Stop thinking about them, Daryl! My mind yelled at myself. It didn't help.   
I hate laundry. Really do. No wonder I always made Pony or Soda do it. It's boring. And your hands get cold. And there's only one black sock here.   
"This is so stupid." I looked around, seeing if I had dropped the darn sock. Nope. Not on the ground. Probably in their room. I didn't want to go into their room, so I tossed it into the bathtub.  
Soon I was finished with the colored junk. I walked into my room, grabbing a bunch of hangers. Then I hung them over the bathtub on a piece of piping. They looked like shit. No wonder I was constantly ironing. We needed to get a clothes line.   
I looked at my clock. Eight-thirty. Great.  
I pulled the bottle of bleach from in under the counter and dumped a cup of it into the water. He then got the white stuff - - mostly T-shirts and a few pairs of briefs. He dumped them all in, and started to swish them around. The bleach got into a cut on left palm hand.   
"Shit." I murmured, going to suck on it, then stopping in the nick of time. All I needed was bleach in my system. "No wonder Soda's always wearing gloves when he's doing this."  
I didn't care that I sounded like a huge-ass idiot, talking to an empty room in an empty house. Two-bit was at school, Steve at work, where Soda would be too. ""Wonder how Soda's doing. . . . probably all happy-go-lucky so nobody'd know he's worried. . . .Pony's at a new school, one up in Windrixville. At least there's no gangs up there. No jumping. They're too corn-pokey to think of anything by hay-rides and cow parades. Farmers. . ."  
I shook my head. I was running out of things to do, to distract myself with. I"ve mopped, I've done every dish in the house twice. Cleaned the fridge. My room was spotless. Fixed one of the table that got busted when Soda and Steve were playing cards and got into a fight on top of it. That was funny.   
Not in the mood for TV.  
My eyes looked at the door across the hall. Pony and Soda's room. I shrugged, grabbing the laundry basket and entering it. Gosh, they were messy, those two. I cold hardly see the floor. Pony's side of the double bed, which was next to the window, had clothes, tons of sketches and pages of writing, books. Soda's side had soda cans, plates, DX t-shirts. Rodeo gear, and. . . a piece of an engine? The cot that actually belonged to Pony that hadn't been used since Mom and Dad's funeral was stacked three feet high with junk. Glory, I should get after them to clean their room more often.  
I started tossing laundry into the basket. God, there was a lot of it. I opened the closet. There wasn't much in there. But the first think I saw, on Pony's side ( I could tell because it was actually somewhat neat and had books.) was a picture frame laying face down. I picked it up.  
My breathing hitched; a picture of Mom and Dad. It was pretty old. The frame was homemade. He had carved horses into it. I swallowed, and placed it faced down again. God, I didn't need that. Not another something to get upset about.   
Soda's half of the room was a lot easier then Pony's, for Pony's side had him written all over it. The sketches, the writing. I realized they were journal entries. I didn't read them, just making a stack and stuffing them into his night stand. The sketches I tacked to the wall over the old wooden desk. The books I stacked into a armoire/bookcase kind of thing Dad had made him when he was about five.   
Changing the sheets. They were filthy. And they smelled like them. Another reminder. I made the bed, put a pillow on each side of the bed. put the engine part and the rodeo gear in the closet. Most the clothes in the basket, some in the closet. The floor needed to be swept and dry-mopped. I felt like crying, so I left the room. And left the house.  
I was going to work, even though I was still two hours early. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Soda  
  
It was a slow day, which made things worse. Too much time to think. I had smoked almost all of Steve's cigarettes. I don't think he's noticed yet, and if he had he hasn't let it be known to me. I set my chin on the counter, looking at the wall clock. It was only two o'clock.   
"There's nothing to do." I said, and it sounded half whining, half pouting. "There's not even a car to fiddle with."  
"What am I supposed to do about it?" Steve asked, looking at me. We had no customers at the moment, and no mechanics were needed.   
"I dunno." I sighed, leaning my chair back against the wall. We were the only ones in the store, other than than Janet, who's the cashier. We all were behind the counter, waiting for someone to pull in for something. "I'm tired."  
"You look it." Janet said, with a gentle smile. She wasn't a greaser, nor a soc. She didn't fit into either. She was one of those poor, artsy people who are in tune to others emotions and feel everyone is equal. Then the phone in the back room rang. She left to get it.   
I looked at Steve again. He rolled his eyes at me, lighting up another cigarette.   
"Hey, Soda, it's for you." Janet said.   
"Me?" I pointed to myself.  
"Any other Sodapop Curtis's in the joint?" She asked me sarcastically. I got up and took the phone.  
"Hello?"  
"Hello, Soda, this is Mr. Dirk, your brother Darry's lawyer." A nasally voice stated. I made a face, closing the back room door.   
"Yea?" I said, coldy.   
"For the court case I need to talk to you and your brother a bit before the trial." He said. "You know, to get an idea about what will be going on and what will be said."  
"Alright. When do you want to do it?" I asked. I wanted a cigarette badly. I drummed my fingers against the desk I was siting on.  
"Um, well, let's see." I heard the ruffling of papers and voices. I grabbed a prescription pad from a drawer and found a pen. "I'm free Wednesday morning."  
"My brother has school from nine till three." I said, my voice flat. I didn't really care if I wasn't being in the least bit helpful.   
"Oh. Well. . . " Another pause, more paper movement. "Friday at seven alright? At the Lya home?"  
"Alright." I squibbled it on the page. "Um. . . Mr. Dirk, how long is this trial thing gonna take?"  
"Right now it seems it should take place on February fifteenth."  
"It's only January eighth!" I said, my stomach lurching. "You said only a week."  
"Yes, we'll talk about this at the meeting. Goodbye." A dial tone entered my ear. I slammed the receiver down, cursing. You're not supposed to do this to us. Not us. We're supposed to be okay. I looked at my watch. Nearly three. Pony should be getting out of school soon. I get off work at four.  
I sighed, trying to calm myself down. Did this mean we couldn't see Darry till then? God, please no. I wanted to go home.   
I looked the paper, crumbled it into a small ball, and shoved it into my pocket.  
"You still alive in there?" Steve hollered to me. "You got a customer!"  
"Yea." I said, keeping my voice steady. "Coming."  
  
It was weird went we went back to the Lya's. First of all, the first thing Mrs. Lya did was bring us cookies and milk. I arrived home in time to meet the bus. Steve suggested that I and Pony get out of that place for a while. But that was immediately crushed because Mrs. Lya said homework must be done before any activities are to be participated. And Pony still had a lot of homework to catch up on.   
We sat around the table, the little kids playing in the living room. I didn't have anything to do so I grabbed some of Pony's sketch paper and pencils and started doodling.   
"How was your first day at Jenkins Academy?" Mrs. Lya asked. Pony looked up from the math homework he was looking over.  
"Okay." He said quietly. She waited for more. "It's different." He added.  
"It doesn't help that you don't talk." Clarrissa said, smiling and nudging his foot. I had a feeling she had a crush on him. He did look older then he was to begin with. I thought it was cute. Pony never showed much interest in many girls, other than Cherry and Marsha. "He's the quietest kid, I swear, Mrs. Lya." She laughed.   
Pony's ears turned red.   
"He can talk when he wants to. No doubt 'bout that." I said. Pony glared at me. "He just needs the right motivation." I cocked an eyebrow. They all laughed, all except the twelve year old. He probably didn't get what I was implying.   
"I can believe that." Clarrisssa said. "He can't be as perfect as he seems." My brother turned crimson and I burst out laughing.   
"Glory Soda, can't you shush up?" He mumbled. That made me laugh even more. I was still uncomfortable. I felt like I was stuck in a nightmare I can't get out of, dragging Ponyboy with me.  
It made me feel even worse when I called Darry and he wasn't home. I called three times, and Ponyboy four times. We stood around the hall, where no one was near, staring at the phone.  
"What if something happened?" He squeaked, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.   
"You're worrying about nothing." I told him. He sighed and leaned on the wall heavier. I didn't like it when he worried. He did it too much. "He probably went out with Two-bit to get something to eat. Don't worry, Pony."  
"I can't help it." He sniffled, ducking his head. I sighed and pulled him to me by setting my hand behind his neck and pulling him into a hug. He stood there, resting his head against me, sniffling. I rested my chin on his head. He was almost too tall. "God, what's going on with me?" He wiped at his face vainly.   
"You're scared, that's all." I told him.  
"I don't like it." He murmured. "I really don't."  
"Neither do I." I sighed. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Two-bit  
  
I barged my way into the Curtis house, whistling a toon. It was Friday night, and notta thing was going on.   
"Hey Darry- - whoa." He was sitting at the kitchen table which was covered with a lot of official looking papers. "What's that stuff?"  
"Stuff the lawyer gave me." Darry said. " This is a page on Ponyboy, Soda, and I"s relationship according to a psychologist: Darryl Curtis see's his youngest brother, Ponyboy Curtis, as an obligation more then a family member and child. Ponyboy Curtis, in return, is timid. But, Darryl Curtis see's his middle brother, Sodapop Curtis, as a peer, not a responsibility, so he is wild and self-centered." Darry practically spat the words. "Soda self-centered. Hah. And Pony's only timid with strangers. I don't even remember going to a psychologist." He threw the stack in his hands to the table with a disgusted sigh. "The lawyer says I can't see Soda or Pony till after the hearing. Almost a month."  
"You can still talk to them, right?" I sat down to his left.   
"Yea, but we can't talk about the court thing, or anything that's happened." He started to sort threw some of the papers. "The lawyer's telling them tonight. I expect them to call any time now." He said, in a softer voice.   
"It'll be over soon." I said. "Don't worry about it." I got up and flopped down on the couch, turning on the television. Nothing was on. As usual. They didn't get much in this area. I sat up again.  
"I told Ponyboy I'd get him out of the joint for a few ours tomorrow. Probably to a movie or something." I said. He hung out at the DX when Soda had a night shift yesterday. He looked miserable, and bored, though Soda had him draining to oil out of some piece of a car. "Anything you want me to tell 'im?"  
Before he could reply the phone rang. He leaned his chair back and grabbed the cream colored device.   
"Hello?. . . . What?! No. Yea. No. No. Yea. . . . I'll be right there. . . . yea, the one in town. Uh-huh." Darry started squibbling on the back of a sheet of paper. "Okay. Be right there." He hung up, turning to me. "The house Pony and Soda was in got torched. Their in the hospital." He got to his feet, grabbing for his coat. "It was the lawyer that called me."   
"I'm coming too!" I jumped to my feet, my stomach churning. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Steve  
  
I sighed, looking at my watch. Soda slept on. Third day straight, the first two he was delirious. He turned away from the sun shining through the window shade, burrowing his head into his pillow with a low groan. He then faced up, feeling around the side of the double bed. His hair was shortened, the ends were singed beyond saving.   
"Pony?" He murmured, his voice hoarse and weak and wild. "Pony?!"  
"Shhhh." I said. "He's not here. He's okay." I told him. His grey eyes shot open. He looked around, bewilderedly.   
"Steve? Where am I?" He asked, turning to face me, his eyebrows furrowed. He rubbed his hand on his neck. "My throat hurts."   
"Cause of the smoke from the fire." I told him. "We're at that lady. . . um. . " I searched for the name. "Mrs. Lya, I think, her mother's house. The one you were staying at was burnt down. Remember?"  
"No." He said, reaching for a glass of water on the table beside the bed. He drunk almost the whole thing, making a face as he swallowed it. "What happened? "  
"The fuzz says it's arson. Someone set the fire on purpose." I said, my voice cold. "But don't worry about it. Everyone got out okay, just a few burns and stuff." I continued.   
"Steve, where's Ponyboy?" He asked suddenly. I hesitated.  
"He's at the hospital."   
"Why?!" He asked, his voice squeaking.  
"He was in there longer then everyone else, 'member? He was asleep. He inhaled a lot of smoke and burned his leg pretty good." I explained. "Since he was already on the weak side because of what happened before and all, they wanted to watch him and stuff." He looked like he was going to throw up, so I patted his arm. "Don't worry- -Two-bit and Darry are over there with the kid."  
He seemed relieved. I wanted to go beat the crap out of someone. I was frustrated as all hell. Nobody know's who'd do it, especially since there is a lot of kids at that joint. And now they have to postpone the hearing even longer because they think Pony's gonna be in the hospital a while. I've saw him yesterday. He was awake, but as if in a daze. His leg's not to bad, it's not going to cripple it or anything, but it's hurting him like hell.   
Darry's been going back and fourth every few hours. Mrs. and Mr. Lya has been too, but has to care for the other foster kids. The lawyer's in a tizzy because he had suggested Darry not see either of the boy but refuses to listen. For some reason Shepard and his gang think it was the socs ( I wouldn't put it past them) to pay back for the whole Bob's death deal. I don't know what got that drudged up.  
"Oh glory, Steve, this sucks." He whined. I grinned half-heartedly. He couldn't help but be goofy, no matter the situation.  
"Ya think?" I asked. I reached over and pulled on a piece of his hair. "Got a trim."  
"Huh?"  
"Hair got singed." I explained. He looked at the rugged edges.   
"Shoot, I think I lost an inch." He said, sounding depressed.   
"Still looks tuff." I said with a shrug. "Better then Pony's."  
"With that stupid rugged cut of his I could be bald and look better then Pony's." He said indignantly. It was true, Pony's hair was still short, but at least it had outgrown the bleach. "You, you sure he's okay?" He asked, trying not to sound too worried.  
"I'm sure." I replied. "Just too much smoke. You'd think with the way he smokes he wouldn't be affected in the slight."  
"Yea." He said with a too-tired-laugh. He laid back, yawning. "Glory, I'm tired."  
"Then go to sleep."  
"Think I'd better." He agreed. "You should go home or something. Don't need to sit there and stare at me."  
"Darry'd lick me good If I left. I said I'd stay with you." I said with a shrug. I grabbed a magazine from the nightstand. "I'll keep me-self amused, Sody."  
There wasn't a response. He was already dead to the world. 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Ponyboy  
  
There was dripping. And murmuring. And I was dog tired. Hungry.  
I hadn't opened my eyes yet, at least today. I just lay, listening to the world around me. I was a little too happy yesterday. They gave me too much morphine for my size, so I got a bit tipsy. Now I have a major headache, kind of like a hangover.   
They have me on an IV drip to give me the morphine and keep me from dehydrating. My leg all burnt up. It's gruesome looking. But I can't feel it, or most that side. They doctors says all I hurt was the outside, the inside just fine. They're hoping the skin will heal itself, or I'm going to have to get some graphed on it from my rear or stomach. I don't want to know what that feels like.   
I cracked my eye open slightly. Good, they closed the curtains, and the lights were off. It certainly helped my headache.   
"Hey Kid." Two-bit said. I looked at him.  
"Hey." My voice was like someone rubbing sandpaper against metal. My throat hurt. "What time is it?"  
"Afternoon." He replied.   
"Oh." I started chewing on the cuticle of my middle finger. Someone pulled my hand down, and I turned.  
"Darry?" I said, sitting up. "You're supposed to be with Soda."  
"I was already." He said. "I went over at eight, and it's almost one-o-clock now." His eyes looked at my bandaged leg. "How's it feeling?"  
"I can't feel it because of the drugs." I replied. "But I'm guessing notso good." He sighed. "How's Soda?"  
"Sounds like a frog but otherwise fine. Gotten out of delirium." Darry said, a little more cheerfully. "You'd think you were dying the way he asked about you." He reached behind me, grabbing a bag. "Clarrissa told me to give this to you." He said, making the word 'Clarrissa' sound seductive. "I think she has a crush." He teased. In response I glared, but I could feel my ears get red.  
"What is it?" Two-bit asked nosily.  
I dumped the bag out beside me. There was an envelope, two tins, and a paper bag. They all smelled like perfume. I opened the letter.  
  
Dear PonyBoy,  
  
Are you alright? That fire was so frightening. I was so worried when we couldn't find you.  
I figured you could use a break from hospital food so I baked you some cookies and a tin of fudge.  
The bag is a surprise.  
Please come home soon.  
  
Love,  
Clarrissa  
  
I read it a few times, then quickly folded it up and stuffed it in the envelope.  
"What, you're not going to share your lover's message?" Two-bit crooned. I glowered, stuffing it in the pocket of my sweats, my ears turning red again.  
"Aw, leave 'im be." Darry said, trying to stifle his own laughter for my sake. I lay back down, setting the tins on the night table. All got quiet again.  
Though I just woke up I was tired as all heck. I yawned for the thirtieth time. Darry leaned over me, pulling up the covers. I meant to tell him thanks, but my eyes closed and wouldn't open for the life of me. 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Darry  
  
As I suspected, Pony closed his eyes and didn't open them again. He's been sleeping a lot lately.  
The doctor came in- - the same one that cared for Pony when he got shot.  
"Hello Daryl." He said with a side-ways grin. "I see our patient has fell asleep again?"  
"He woke up for like five minutes." I told him. "Cranky."  
"I'd expect that." His smile was weird, like he had a secret he was just dying to tell. Two-bit started playing with Pony's sketchpad.   
"Don't mess with that or he'll get mad at me." I told him, then turned back to the doctor.  
"I've talked to the lawyers and the police and the therapist." He said calmly. "They have agreed with me for the best interest of the boys they should go home until a complete recovery on Ponyboy's part."   
"Really?!" I demanded. He was as giddy as I was.  
"Yes!" He grinned. "Of course, it's not going to be simple. Every other day someone's going to come check on you, and if there is anything they do not like they're going to be put in another home almost instantly."  
"But they can come home?" I repeated.   
"Yes." I nearly fainted with joy. 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Soda  
I opened our bedroom door. It was about ten. I was relieving Stirrup from duty, for Darry was taking a night job for the money. Pony was sitting on the bed, writing in a ragged old book. His leg was bandaged up to the knee, held straight out.   
"Hey kid." I said quietly. He looked up.   
"Hey Soda." He said softly. He closed the book and set it on the nightstand, and looked at the mess of school texts and papers littering the bed. He started to collect them in a pile, lifting his bad leg and immediately grabbing it and straightening it out, making a small noise. I quickly collected the papers and set them on the cot. "Thanks." He said.  
I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bed beside him. He shifted over and I pulled off my shirt.   
"Time for your morphine and some sleep." I sighed. He didn't say anything. He hasn't been saying much of anything lately. Since we've been home.   
I reached into my nightstand, grabbing a syringe and a small bottle. I filled it to three ounces. He watched me slowly. He didn't like needles. I didn't like needles. Darry didn't like needles. But it had to be done.   
"Alright." I said, quiet still, stroking back his hair with my free hand. I set the needle on his wrist, where there was already blackening marks from other injections. I broke skin. And squeezed. He barely flinched. I threw the needle away and then helped him lay back. I then climbed in beside him. I threw an arm around him, and he burrowed his face against my shoulder. He's been sleeping like that often nowadays. I didn't object. It was just as much a comfort to me then to him.   
He didn't fall asleep quickly though. He wiggled a lot beneath my arm. He used to fall asleep with such ease. He's changing fast, to a completely different person. An empty shell really. It's scares me. Pony's our kid, Darry and I. I'm not really sure what it's like to be a father, but I'm pretty sure it's like what I go through with Pony. And Darry too.   
I do have to admit since Pony's been home he's slowly feeling better about what's going on. He's eating a little more, but is still awful quiet. Quiet is what got him into this mess. But how am I supposed to convince him to use his mouth instead of his head?  
I sighed, gently rubbing my fingers into his neck. He tensed at first, then slowly began to relax. I was a master at putting Darry to sleep. This shouldn't be too hard.   
It took longer then I thought, but I put him to sleep. Darry had come home before I finished. We looked at one another, then sighed. I listened to Pony's even breathing for hours, till finally climbing out of bed to see what Darry was doing. 


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Darry.  
Friday. Friday's are marvelous things in this house. I don't have to get up in the morning. Soda doesn't have to get up in the morning. And Ponyboy doesn't have to be left alone most the day.  
I was surprised to find Soda still awake when I came home around midnight. He was half sitting up on their bed, rubbing Pon's back like he does to me when I can't sleep. He seemed exhausted himself. He didn't notice me for a long while, till Pony was finally asleep. He looked at me, his eyes lively as ever, but with a darkness in them.   
We both sighed.   
I went back out to the living room, laying down on the couch. I didn't know what was happening to us. We used to be so close. We're extremely close physically, but Ponyboy's mind is like a safe these days. He used to be so into his emotions. SO into them I never understood anything about him. He would be like a tiger at a zoo - - amazingly beautiful and simple, yet more complex then any normal being.   
I poured myself a cup of coffee, and took a few aspirins.   
I couldn't drop that thought about my littlest brother. He was changing at a remarkable rate. Faster then he did after Johnny and Dally's death, after Windrixville. The scenario was so familiar, but I couldn't remember who it was this happened too before. And how they coped with it.   
I sat on the couch for most of the night, watching the sun start to peak.   
I used to watch sunsets a lot. All the time. Something about them fascinated me.   
Then it came to me in a gold realization.   
The person I was thinking of was me.   
After Mom and Dad's death, I just coped. I didn't even cried. I coped because I had to be strong for Soda and Ponyboy. I had to keep them fed, keep them safe, keep them with me.   
I realized Pony thought he had to be strong for us. Not really strong, but make him appear better. But he wasn't going to get better till someone talked to him.   
I paused, sighing. I was never talked to and I'm okay. Would Pony be okay?  
No. No he wouldn't, because he was different then me. Not weaker, but just different. He's always been different. Drawing and writing instead of football and fighting. Quiet, shy and small, instead of loud, confident and large. Not a follower, but certainly not a leader. He was just. . . just. . . Just Ponyboy.   
I sighed, feeling the tenseness leave my muscles for the first time in a long while. I left my head fall back against a pillow. It smelled like smoke and sweat, but I didn't care.   
I was exhausted.   
I was so exhausted I couldn't sleep for the life of me.   
But somehow, I must have. Because when I woke up, Soda was at the stove cooking. Pony was sitting on the counter, watching. Both were clad in just jeans. My youngest brother was still half asleep, resting on the counter, while Soda was dancing around and grabbing stuff. He was making chocolate cake.   
We haven't had chocolate cake in a long time.   
I didn't really care if he put too much sugar in the frosting this time.   
I needed some caffeine. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

Steve  
"Alright, alright, ALRIGHT!" Soda and Two-bit stopped arguing over who was cheating better at poker this round. "Who's in this deal?" They both watched as I flipped the deck from one of my hands to the other.   
"I'm in." Soda said, then promptly jumped up and jumped onto the couch beside Pony. He was acting unusual for the weird kid he is: he was still in his bathrobe, watching television. It was nearly three in the afternoon. "Wanna play Pony?" He asked, playfully messing Pony's hair.   
"Not really." Pony replied, but got up anyways, following Soda to the table. Darry was out shopping or something, the rest of us at the kitchen table, eating what food was left in the house. So Darry wouldn't be buying food for nothing.   
"Alrighty then, I'll be happy to kick you're butt, Pony, along with these two losers." Two-bit cackled, starting to deal. Both of them glared. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Everyone stopped. The only people who ever knock at the Curtis's are the state and the fuzz.   
"I'll get it." Soda got up and opened the door.   
"Hello, is Ponyboy there?" It was a girl's voice.   
"Yea, hold on." He closed the door half-way. "Pon, it's Clarrissa." He said, teasingly. Pony's ears turned red. Two-bit started laughing hysterically while I tried to keep my composure, failing miserabley. The look on Ponyboy's face was classic.   
"Comin'." Pony got up and went to the door, shutting it behind him. We all continued cackling. Picking on that kid was too easy.   
"Shh, maybe we can hear." Two-bit said suddenly. We all quieted.   
"Let's go for a walk or something." Pony was saying. "Since CERTAIN PEOPLE are being so NOSEY" He said it so we could here. We broke out laughing again. It got worse as Pony walked back into the house. The back of his neck was red.   
"Okay, okay, cool-it." Soda tried to say, but still was laughing. "Pony, you can't got for a walk with that leg!" He added, this time more clear. "We'll leave ya'll alone."  
"No you won't!" He yelled back from the bedroom. Two-bit started cackling again, falling out of his chair onto the linoleum. I had to hold back my urge to kick him. He took things like this too far sometimes. "We'll go out to the garage."  
"Go in Darry's room." Soda yelled back. "We'll gag Two-bit." He said, eying the boy rolling on the ground.   
  
  
  
Sorry it's been so long since I posted a chapter. I can't think of anyway to end the fic, or anything else should happen. Any ideas? ~Nightwave 


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